


Gaelic Serenade

by Hylophobic



Series: The Space Cowboy Saga [3]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Explicit Language, I am very American, Jon definitely has a size kink, Jon is Irish, M/M, Paz might have a language kink, Rating May Change, Thank the Mandorin Discord server for this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:47:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23936311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hylophobic/pseuds/Hylophobic
Summary: A series of one-shots revolving around a simple idea for an alternate universe-What if Jon was Irish?Paz definitely has a thing for languages. Especially when his mechanic is involved.
Relationships: Corin the Stormtrooper (Rescue and Regret)/The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), Paz Vizla/Jon (Hylophobic)
Series: The Space Cowboy Saga [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1681876
Comments: 2
Kudos: 58





	Gaelic Serenade

**Author's Note:**

> Y'all can thank the Mandorin discord server for this idea that got stuck in my brain.
> 
> I'm looking at you Ace...
> 
> Praise my beta reader Wizardmoonwhisper and witness me!!!

The first time it happens, Paz isn't really playing attention. He and Raga are off to the side of the _RazorCrest_ discussing the current state of the covert's supplies.

Jon and the twins are working on one of the landing stabilizers while Din watches from a short distance away.

Even Corin is present, though he's focused entirely on keeping the kid occupied with a game.

The mechanic had been struggling with this current project for over an hour, and was getting increasingly annoyed with it. Apparently, the smaller man was having problems getting to the circuits that controlled that portion of the ship, and he wasn't too happy about it. Though, the man had been careful to keep his language child-friendly.

Then, with a shout of frustration the heavy gunner hears it.

"Píosa cac!"

His helm immediately swings around to zero in on his mechanic. The man had taken a step back from his work and was eyeing the stabilizers while running an irritated hand through his unruly hair.

"Píosa cacamas. Cé a dhear an rud seo," Jon mutters just loud enough for the heavy gunner to pick up.

The mechanic's accent had always been something of a mystery to the Mandalorian. The man had never told the heavy gunner where he'd grown up and Paz had just assumed that, like his father, that was something that Jon hadn't wanted to go into detail about. In all the time he'd known the smaller male, the only languages he'd ever heard his mechanic use were Basic and, just recently, Mando'a.

Paz is instantly captivated by this strange dialect.

Apparently, he isn't the only one either.

The others had turned their full attention to the man, who was still mumbling in that eccentric language, completely oblivious to the audience he'd drawn.

"N’fheadar an ligfeadh Din dom é a scrabhadh. D’fhéadfainn long níos fearr a thógáil leis na páirteanna breise bruscair timpeall anseo."

Paz barely catches Din's name in the confusing jumble of words spilling forth from his mechanic, but it's enough to snap him out of his trance.

"Jon," he calls out.

The reaction is abrupt, the mechanic twists around with a startled noise. It almost seemed like he'd forgotten the others were even present. Wide, green eyes blink owlishly at Paz and the man tilts his head to the side curiously.

"Ya gave me a fright dare, Paz. I was off in me own little world dare an'- Somethin' wrong?"

The mechanic trails off as he glances around, eyes flickering sheepishly around the group.

"What language was that," he questions carefully, keeping his tone light in case the subject was a sensitive one.

It seems he didn't have to worry, because Jon's eyes brighten, and a smile stretches across his mechanic's face.

"Ahh, ya mean Gaelige, do ya? Or I guess, some people call it Gaelic too. Is teanga dhúchais dom é. Mhúin Me Gram dom é," the mechanic replies, tossing a cheeky little grin towards the Mandalorian that has heat pooling in his gut.

Jon snickers at the group's continued silence. "It's my native tongue, Paz. As a wee lad I spen' a lot o' time with me Gram when- da' was otherwise disposed. I learned it from 'er."

Gaelic… The heavy gunner had never heard of it before and certainly had never heard anyone speaking it. It was a lighter, more musical language than Mando'a. The sounds almost seemed to flow into each other in a way that made it difficult for him to understand where one word ended, and another began.

And it was possibly one of the hottest things he'd ever witnessed from his _cyare._

Not that he was keeping a list or anything.

The Mandalorian hums, stalking towards the smaller man, vaguely aware that the others are moving to make themselves scarce. Jon cocks his head at his approach, an inquisitive noise emitting from his throat when the heavy gunner backs him against one of the landing gears of the _Crest._

He watches his mechanic's eyes darken, the man's eyes rove over the Mandalorian's larger frame and Paz pulls himself to his full height.

"Gaelic, hmm?"

"Aye," Jon squeaks out as he’s pressed further back.

_"Bic's mesh'la. Jorhaa'ir par ni, cyar'ika."_

The man's face flushes a bright red at his words and Paz drips his helm down to nuzzle into pale neck before him. The smaller man shudders at the cool touch of metal, Adam's apple bouncing as he swallows.

"Ná stad. Ná leomh tú stopadh."

Paz growls, hands reaching out to tug the man closer by those thin hips. _"Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, ner cyare."_

"Is breá liom tú, mo chroí," Jon replies breathlessly.

With a feral snarl the heavy gunner hoists the smaller male up, the mechanic quick to wrap his legs around the Mandalorian's waist to keep balance. Paz spins around and starts marching towards their shared room. All the while, the man in his arms was whispering that musical dialect into the side of his helmet.

A growl rumbles in his chest, one hand skimming down to grab hold of the mechanic's backside. Jon stumbles over his words, making a pleased little sigh into his shoulder before going back to speaking to him in Gaelic.

"Tá tú chomh mór. Le do thoil, mo chroí. Fuck, tá grá agam duit."

Paz may have learned something new about himself today.

Though, now was not the time for self-examination.

He spots their shared room in the distance, picking up his pace and nearly kicking the door in when he's close enough.

Paz tosses the mechanic onto their bed, locking the door behind him and begins to shed his armor.

His mechanic is still slurring out, what he can only assume, are praises in Gaelic.

No doubt making filthy little promises, the little shit.

Even in bed Jon never stopped talking.

Not that the heavy gunner was complaining at all, mind you.

Not at all.

**Author's Note:**

> Translations:  
> Gaelic:  
> Píosa cac- Piece of shit  
> Píosa cacamas. Cé a dhear an rud seo- Piece of crap. Who designed this thing?  
> N’fheadar an ligfeadh Din dom é a scrabhadh. D’fhéadfainn long níos fearr a thógáil leis na páirteanna breise bruscair timpeall anseo- I wonder if Din would let me scratch it. I could build a better ship with the spare parts around here.  
> Is teanga dhúchais dom é. Mhúin Me Gram dom é- It's my native language. Me Gram taught me it.  
> Ná stad. Ná leomh tú stopadh.- Don't stop. Don't dare stop.  
> Is breá liom tú, mo chroí- I love you, my dear  
> Tá tú chomh mór. Le do thoil, mo chroí. Fuck, tá grá agam duit- You are so great. Please, my dear. Fuck, I love you.
> 
> Mando'a:  
> Bic's mesh'la. Jorhaa'ir par ni, cyar'ika.- It's beautiful. Speak for me, darling.  
> Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, ner cyare- I love you, my beloved.


End file.
